Prey
by womanvenus
Summary: How Hanschen manages to seduce Ernest, mostly from Hanschen's point of view. Work in progress.
1. Chapter 1

Hanschen was stalking his prey. From his seat at the edge of the classroom, his eyes were fixated on the back of his head. Ernst. Sweet, innocent, entirely oblivious Ernst. He had no idea of the affect he'd been having on Hanschen, that the boy at the back of the class was watching his every move, studying each glorious, dark, silky strand of hair upon his head. Hanschen knew the intensity of his stare must be strong enough to bore a hole through the back of Ernest's head, and was amazed that the boy did not feel the eyes so intently fixated upon his body. But that was Ernst. He was brilliant in the classroom, but when it came to the real world, he could be so clueless sometimes; something could be right under his nose and he still would never notice. Hanschen let his eyes trail from the top of Ernst's head, down along the gentle curve of his neck, where the hair gave way to milky white skin. He wanted to run his fingers through that hair, trail his fingers down that neck, press his lips against that—

"Class dismissed!" The teacher barked, snapping Hanschen out of his reverie. The boys all began to stand up and gather their things.

"Well, I'm off," said one of the boys, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out of the classroom.

"Me too," piped Ernst behind him, in the sweetest voice Hanschen had ever heard. He had to act now. Now was the time to pounce.

In two strides, he was across the classroom and by Ernst's side.

"I'll walk with you," he said confidently, placing a firm hand on Ernst's arm. The delicate boy looked up at Hanschen with genuine surprise, and—could it be—fear? Hanschen wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to give Ernst the chance to say no.

"Come on," he said, guiding Ernst towards the door, "We'll huddle over the Homer. Maybe even do a little Achilles and Patroclus," he added suggestively. Really! How hard did he have to hint before the boy got the message? The thought of huddling with Ernst made the beast inside Hanschen growl with delight, and, if he wasn't mistaken, he could see a quiver shake the boy's body as the same thought passed through his own mind. But Ernst just said "Alright" and followed him out the door, wide-eyed like a lamb, an innocent lamb, unquestionably following along. Little did he know he was following a wolf.


	2. Chapter 2

As they walked along the path home, Hanschen let Ernst babble away about Latin and the beauty of the pastures as they passed them by.

"And when the sun begins to set, just over the horizon, I want to run through the fields, skipping and singing songs, and then lie down in the middle of the grass and just gaze up at the sky. Wouldn't that be nice?" Ernst turned to Hanschen, waiting for a response. Hanschen couldn't help laughing to himself. The boy was completely serious. Ernst was so idealistic, so foolish, and yet Hanschen could not resist being drawn to him. There was something fresh, something incredibly endearing in all his innocence, that made Hanschen want him all the more. He wanted to steal that innocence, not to hurt him, but to educate him. To open up a whole new world to him that he could only have ever glimpsed in his darkest dreams.

"I like the bit about lying down," Hanschen finally replied, half smirking. But Ernst didn't seem to notice.

Just then, a chill breeze unexpectedly stirred the air, whipping the boys' hair about their faces and causing their skin to tingle with the cold.

"Brrr!" Ernst said, shivering slightly. Hanschen, never one to let an opportunity go wasted, skillfully slipped his arm around Ernst's shoulders and pulled him near.

"Stay close," he purred softly in Ernest's ear, "And we'll keep warm together."

Hanschen was too busy pulling Ernest tight to his side to see the boy gulp.


	3. Chapter 3

Hanschen lay awake that night in bed, staring up at the ceiling and plotting ways to seduce Ernst. They'd spent the whole evening studying together. Hanschen had managed to invite himself into Ernst's house, and the two had poured over _The Illiad_ for hours. Hanschen, of course, led the way, trying to focus as much as possible on the scenes with Achilles and Patroclus. Ernst may have been naïve, but he wasn't dumb. Surely he understood what Hanschen was getting at as he read the passages aloud?

"_Do you follow me, Ernst? Do you see the line I'm talking about?" Hanschen pointed to the text lying on the floor between them. They were sitting side by side on the ground, a burning lamp illuminating the pages before them. "No, I'm afraid I don't follow," Ernst said, genuine sadness in his voice at his own inability to please. "Here," said Hanschen, softly, taking Ernst's hand in his own, "Let me show you." Hanschen gently guided Ernst's fingers over the page and laid them to rest on the appropriate line. He let his hand linger for a moment longer on top of Ernst's, before turning to look down at him. "There," he said softly, "Do you understand?" Ernst's eyes shown with a quiet hopefulness in the candlelight as he gazed timidly up at Hanschen. "Yes," he said quietly, "Ye-es I think so." _

Hanschen knew he would have kissed him right then and there, if Ernst's mother hadn't decided to come knocking on the door precisely at that moment. But the evening had gone remarkably well up until that point. Everything was going according to plan. He just had to finally seal the deal somehow. He had to get Ernst some place where there was no chance for his mother to interfere, some place they could be alone… Hanschen smiled. He knew just the place.

It was several weeks before Hanschen finally managed to get Ernst alone. Every time he tried, the boy always had some excuse for why he had to go home straight away after school. So Hanschen had just gone back with him to his house each time to study. Study. Ha, Hanschen smirked to himself. They may have been talking about schoolwork, but Hanschen knew his own mind lay far from the realms of Greek and Latin. How could he think of anything else, with Ernst so close to his side, gazing up at him in the candlelight? Ernst, timid, delicate Ernst. Delicate as a flower. Beautiful as a flower in the sunlight. With a voice as sweet as a—No. Hanschen stopped his own train of thought. How disgustingly sentimental of him, how utterly _romantic. _Hanschen cringed. Ernst was rubbing off on him more than he realized.

As the teacher strode back and forth across the room, Hanschen tried hard to refocus his thoughts, away from the sickening sentimental nonsense he'd been dreaming up earlier. He needed to get back to how _Hanschen_ thought, not how Ernst thought. Hanschen didn't think about "emotion", he thought about _physicality_, _sexuality, _the raw sensations he could feel with his own body. Like the things he thought about when he looked at those photographs—how he wanted to take Ernst in his arms, pin him to the ground, press his body beneath his and—

"Hanschen?" It was Ernst, timidly standing behind him. The teacher had called "class dismissed," but Hanschen hadn't even noticed. He was still sitting in his chair. Ernst slid into the empty seat beside him. "I have to go home straight away to see my mother and father off. They're going out of town this week, you see." Hanschen perked up. "Well," he continued, "you do understand, I can't study now, but perhaps later, we might be able to go over some of the verses?" Hanschen couldn't believe it. Ernst was entirely alone for the night, and all he could think about was studying! Well, he would certainly change that.

He leaned in confidently towards Ernst. "Meet me tonight in the vineyard, when the bell tolls eight."

"In the vineyard?" Ernst looked surprised. But before he could protest, Hanschen answered, "Yes, I know how much you love the _pastoral_ feeling of nature. Perhaps you could enlighten me."

"Well," Ernst said shyly, "I suppose I could. Should I bring any texts?"

"No," Hanschen replied, raising his eyebrow suggestively, "Just your mouth."

Ernst's jaw dropped.

"To talk," Hanschen clarified, nearly laughing aloud at the look on Ernst's face.

"Oh," said Ernst, laughing nervously. "Ye-es. Of course."


	4. Chapter 4

It was a perfect night. The breeze was soft and cool, and the leaves cast flowing shadows over the vineyard. Hanschen sat with his eyes closed, letting the air and his thoughts wash over him. All he had to do was wait for the sound of the bells.

"Hanschen?" He heard the timid voice behind him, the voice he knew so well. Ernst was early.

He turned and looked up at the boy, flashing a smile.

"Come," he said, gesturing to the ground, "Sit down." Ernst obeyed, but he positioned himself a good six feet away from Hanschen. They sat together for a moment in awkward silence, Ernst deliberately staring at the ground while Hanschen looked on him with hungry eyes. Then the bells began to ring. Hanschen took the opportunity to let his eyes trace the delicate shadows cast across Ernst'ss body in the gentle glow of the moonlight. The quivering lip and the wringing hands did not go unnoticed.

"Those bells," Hanschen sighed, looking over at Ernst, "so peaceful."

"I know!" Ernst cried, perhaps a little to eagerly, turning to face Hanschen. Hanschen smiled as the boy finally met his gaze and held it, the intensity building between them with every moment.

Ernst gulped and turned away. Hanschen couldn't help being amused as he saw Ernst resume ringing his hands and determinedly staring off into the distance. This was going to be harder than he thought. But there was nothing Hanschen liked more than a challenge. He could feel his own heart quickening with the rush of adrenaline. Or was it just lust? Or could it even be…nerves? No, that was ridiculous. Hanschen didn't get _nervous _over something like this. It was only Ernst. Heartbreakingly beautiful, wonderful Ernst.

Hanschen mentally slapped himself. Going romantic wasn't going to help him win Ernst over. Or was it? No, best to do it the Hanschen way. He immediately began trying out various innuendos in his head, and his heartbeat calmed. Yes. A smirk settled onto his face as he mused over the most suggestive phrase he could get away with. But Ernst surprised him by breaking the silence first.

"Sometimes," he began, in a far away voice, "when it's quiet in the evening like this, I imagine myself a country pastor. My red cheeked wife, my library, my degrees. Boys and girls nearby give me their hands when I go walking."

Hanschen groaned inwardly. Another one of Ernst's childish fantasies. But Ernst's face shone with a glorious, radiant light whenever he talked about them, so Hanschen usually let him babble on. But not tonight.

"You can't be serious."

Ernst looked back at him, surprised. Now was the time he set Ernst straight, brought him over to _his _view of the world.

"Really Ernst, you're such a sentimentalist. The pious serene faces you see on the clergy, it's all an act. To hide their envy. Trust me." He paused for a moment to slide a little bit closer towards Ernst. "There are only three ways a man can go. He can let the status quo defeat him, like Moritz. He can rock the boat like Melchoir and be expelled. Or he can bide his time, and let the system work for him. Like me." Hanschen skillfully slid closer once again, till their knees were almost touching. Ernst, hanging on his every word with captivated attention, was too enraptured to notice. "Think of the future as a pail of warm milk," Hanschen drawled, "One man sweats and stirs, churning it into butter, like Otto for example. Another man frets and spills his milk and cries all night, like Georg. But me," he paused, delighting in the suspense he was dangling Ernst in, "I'm like a pussycat." He licked his lips and gave a wicked smile. "I just… skim off…the cream." Ernst tilted his head to one side in confusion.

"Just skim off the cream?" he asked, innocently uncertain.

"Right," said Haschen, smiling. He had Ernst eating right out of his hand.

"But what about the—" Ernst stopped as Hanschen began to laugh. The poor boy didn't have a clue what he really meant, and yet he was trying so hard to understand. That's what Hanschen loved so much about him. All that sweetness, no, all that _energy_ he put out trying to learn. Trying to please other people. Hanschen just had to redirect him, get him to put that energy to the _proper _use.

"You're laughing," Ernst said, his confusion growing. "Hanschen?" Ernst had leaned forward ever so slightly. Hanschen could feel the hairs rising instinctively on his skin. A flush of heat surging through his body. He knew that feeling, the moment just before the pounce. He knew what it meant. Hanschen wanted him. He wanted him more than he'd ever wanted anyone before. He wanted to lean in close and whisper softly in his ear. To sing to him.

"_Come cream away the bliss. Travel the world within my lips_." As he continued, he stood up and circled around Ernst, like a hawk circling around its prey. "_Fondle the pearl of your distant dreams_." Hanschen bent low behind Ernst and whispered over his shoulder, "_Haven't you heard the word of your body?_" Ernest sat frozen, like a deer in the headlights. Hanschen circled back around and kneeled on the ground before him. "_Oh, you're gonna be wounded. Oh, you're gonna be my wound. Oh, you're gonna bruise too. Oh, I'm gonna be your bruise_." His face was inches from his cheek. He could hear the rapid beating of Ernst's heart, matching the frenzied beating of his own.

It was now or never.

He leaned in and kissed him.

He felt Ernst gasp and squirm with surprise beneath his warm mouth, before pulling back.

"Oh God!" Ernst panted, looking away. Their faces were still only inches apart.

"Mm...I know," Hanschen mused, his own face flushed with excitement. "When we look back, thirty years from now, tonight will seem unbelievably beautiful." He leaned back only to slid forward, skillfully entwining Ernst's legs with his own.

Ernst met his eyes shyly. "And in the meantime?" he asked.

"Why not?" Hanschen suggested. Did Ernst finally understand what he'd been trying to get him to see? He reached out towards Ernst's cheek and pulled his lips to his, kissing him once again. Fuller, deeper. And this time Ernst leaned in too. He felt him pull in closer, wrap his fingers through his hair, eagerly press his mouth to Hanschen's own. Hanschen relished in the pleasure of his tender lips, those lips no one but him had ever touched this way before. He wanted to touch every part of Ernst's body. Letting his hands trail down Ernst's arms, chest, legs, body, he felt his nerves tingle with an unbelievable sensation.

A few moments later, Ernst pulled back again. Hanschen, unwilling to let him go, kept his hands pressed to his body. But he didn't need to worry; Ernst wasn't going anywhere. He was gazing back at Hanschen with a look of such daze and rapture that even the stubbornly unsentimental boy felt light-headed and dizzy in its presence.

Laughing nervously in disbelief, Ernst said, "On my way here this afternoon, I thought perhaps we'd only talk!"

"So are you sorry we-?" Hanschen said, becoming defensive.

"Oh no!" he protested, "I love you Hanschen! As I have never loved anyone!"

Hanschen smiled. The little butterflies inside his stomach were dancing with happiness. He'd done it, finally done it—he'd finally won over Ernst. Not that he'd ever doubted he could. "And so you should," he said smugly. His confidence was returning a hundred times over. It was time for Ernst's _proper_ education to begin. And when it came to teachers, well...Hanschen knew he was the best.

"_Oh, I'm gonna be wounded. Oh, I'm gonna be your wound_."

"_Oh. You're gonna bruise too. Oh, I'm gonna be your bruise_."


End file.
